Hi everyone. I just couldn’t resist writing today. When I began sending these letters to describe the ongoing saga I was experiencing living in Mallorca, my intent was to only write when something interesting had occurred. No plan to write on a fixed time schedule, but instead when there was something that I thought you might be interested in ‘being here,’ even if vicariously. The past week seemed to meet my criteria.
A client group came to Mallorca and my charge was to help them assimilate into something that resembled a highly effective performance team. Okay, fair enough. That is part of what I do for work so I said yes. Clearly, the fact that they had decided to come to Mallorca instead of me having to fly off to northern Europe was especially tantalising for me.
The week before they arrived, I had received several phone calls from the client leader, with part of each call focussing on the current weather. Each time, I marvelled him with the weather report – almost every time he rang me, it the sun was blazing down, elevating the temperatures into the low to mid-twenties. Shoot, it was so nice, I was wearing shorts and a light shirt and even then I was hot. It was almost hard to believe…here it was; the end of February, and it felt as if it was May. I was in heaven, and I faithfully (and teasingly) communicated this to the client. And then, the first week of March they arrived.
One of the planned parts of the several day meeting was a car rally. The client had made arrangements to hire seven upscale cabriolets for the event, and a route had been put together that went weaving around the northwest and central part of the island. When the time came for the rally to begin, the weather had turned exceedingly sour, with a strong wind pouring down on Mallorca from someplace north – which meant is was pretty cold. Up went all the soft-tops on the cars, and we set off to explore.
One of the stops on the rally was in the town of Galilea, and if the wind pounding on the cars as we negotiated the incredibly high and winding roads on the way there. When we arrived, there was something in the air. At first, it appeared to be almond blossoms that had been blown off the trees from the high winds, but then it became quite apparent that it was snowing.
Yes, I will say this again, but with a bit more emphasis that might more clearly express my displeasure…it was flippin’ SNOWING. I was gobsmacked, and whilst it wasn’t exactly a blizzard, and nothing was sticking to the ground; but shit…snow…in Mallorca…in early March…damn. Needless to say, the client's weren't all that impressed either, and to paraphrase Ricky Ricardo, I had "some splainin' to do."
One of the major reasons they had picked Mallorca to come to for their workshop was the weather. They had come all this way from Switzerland and Germany and had been relishing the prospects of the brilliant weather I had been going on about...and it was less than brilliant.
Apparently, the whole global warming thing had run amuck. I think that all the ex-pats who have chosen to live in Mallorca (myself included of course) have become unbelievably spoilt with the weather we had been having most of the winter. And then to be brought back to reality was a cruel trick of the weather Gods. Hopefully, within a day or two, the weather we all have become used to will resume…or else I just may be forced to ring Tomeu for more firewood.
getting ready to impart wisdom
imparting wisdom (no, really...I was imparting wisdom)
dodging motor coaches on the rally
snow, in Mallorca, in early March
copyright 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, James B. Rieley